


complete me

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: DUMB FUCKING FLUFF, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Pining, babitha cameo, basically this fic is a mess but it's all abt gobblepot k, between-the-lines nygmobblepot, ed and jim low-key fight over oz, ed is a little bit of a dick, fwb but also a little bit in love, jim still loves lee, mentions nygmakins, thompkean if you squint REALLY hard, tiny bit of jim/male oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: “Jim? JimGordon?”Barbara Kean.“How did you get in here?” She approached, holding a martini with Tabitha Galavan close behind. She smacked Jim in the shoulder with the end of the lavender wrap strung over her shoulders and then took a sip of her drink.Her eyes widened half-way through the sip. “Oh my god!” They moved between Oswald and Jim as she swallowed and before Jim could find a way to answer. “Are you here with little Ozzy?” Oswald tried to remain calm about being called little as she gasped through a huge grin, and got even closer to Jim, “Are you hisdate?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is some goofy shit i wrote because i love fake dating fics aright here you GO. i am always going to introduce supposed cases to use as plot devices in these things but then never solve them.
> 
> Ed is in this a lot, Barbara a bit... both of them are just here to make fun trouble but Ed is a plot device, though I tried to be nice to him.

Oswald hadn’t gone there for Jim. When he thought back on it he thought about Jim, but then he had to remind himself he’d been there for something else. Jim was just the reason he’d missed his original mark.

His target of interest was yet to arrive when he spotted James Gordon at the bar. He was dressed the same as always— a dark grey suit, hair pushed back, yet somehow it all looked spiffier. It took Oswald a few moments to shift his line of sight and realize he wasn’t there alone.

There was a man sitting next to him on a bar stool as well, facing him, and Jim was turned partially to face him in turn, one knee outward toward him, the other foot on the ground.

The possibilities were confusing, but also intriguing— and more than anything, none of his business. But Oswald had never been good at minding his own business. Indeed, doing so would impede upon every method of manipulation that had allowed him to come so far.

It seemed like a meeting at first, perhaps a friendly exchange of information on some homicide victim lucky enough to land Jim Gordon for their case. Oswald didn’t have anything else to look at, so he watched, and resisted the urge to move closer in hopes of hearing some juicy Gotham gossip. His present location was ideal for his current mission, and the club was packed enough that he didn’t want to risk giving it up.

It crossed his mind that this wasn’t Jim’s usual place for a work meet-up, nor was it particularly discreet. That probably meant the exchange was unremarkable.

Jim was smiling, seemingly at a joke at first, alongside what may have been a forced laugh. Then the smile was awkward, almost nervous. Then the other man’s eyes moved down, and some realizations clicked in Oswald’s brain like clockwork.

He looked down at Jim’s knee as one of his hands crept forward and allowed its fingertips to settle there. Jim visibly tensed, and for a moment Oswald was sure Jim was going to leave, but instead he just stayed very still, and looked into the other man’s eyes as he smiled with what Oswald thought was an uncharacteristic shyness. But one that made something stir in his gut.

Some part of Oswald, a part that existed years ago and maybe still lingered, hurt. Another part screamed at him to stop staring before he was caught. Another demanded he continue to achieve full confirmation of his suspicion, as any self-respecting stockpiler of information would.

But— he adverted his eyes and took along sip of his wine— this wasn’t that kind of information. He tried looking everywhere else. There was a woman laughing at a table in the corner, a young couple dressed expensively walking through the main door, the table reserved for his target remained empty.

James Gordon touched his fingertips to those belonging to the other man. It sucked Oswald’s gaze in like vacuum and trapped it in time. He couldn’t hear a word they were saying but he was convinced he could pick the sound of their voices out of the crowd. They spoke softly, short sentences that offered one-another space to reply or comment. With every mutual exchange the man moved his fingers by millimeters, further onto Jim’s leg. Oswald watched Jim seem to get more and more flustered as the game continued, eyes stuck on his face as he smiled, laughed nervously, probably turned red enough to see if you were close-up.

“Sir?” A voice entered his thoughts.

“Hm?” He patronized on reflex, but then realized where he was and pulled himself up, looking up at the server. “What do you want?” He sputtered.

“I asked if there’s anything else I can get you?” The server must not have known who he was or he wouldn’t have been so curt in response.

“No, I’m fine,” Oswald emphasized, staring him down. He wondered if the man recognized him in that very moment, because his face turned to surprise and then what could have been fear as he backed away.

Oswald shook him off and turned his eyes back to check on the empty table where—

—it wasn’t empty anymore.

The expensively dressed man and woman that he formerly guessed were a couple was now sitting there— the man was leaving. Whatever they had met to exchange, it had been brief, and Oswald had missed it.

He raised his glass to his lips to curse passionately into it and shield his voice at the same time. He blamed Jim Gordon, who was, when he looked up, now being lead out of the club with his date.

He hadn’t been gone more than two minutes when a solution to one of Oswald’s minor problems came to mind. This trip wouldn’t have been for nothing.

o-o-o-o

“Sorry?” Jim’s brow furrowed hard. Oswald had expected that response at first.

“I said, would you be my date tomorrow evening?”

Jim was staring at him like he had spray-can cheese coming out of his eye-sockets. Oswald snorted out a laugh.

“Just pretend,” he played it off. “Not a real date.”

“Uh-huh…” Jim didn’t seem convinced.

Oswald heaved a sigh. “Edward Nygma has upgraded his place of residence… or, opened a sub-par club or… something or other. Regardless, he’s throwing a house-warming party and invited the entire underworld. We all get a plus one but only for romantic partners.”

Jim took it in slowly. “And you think I’d be able to find some things out about the disappearances if you got me in?”

“If that’s the way you want to see it,” Oswald shrugged. “In truth I just don’t so much want to let him rub the plus-one thing in my face when I show up without one. Or worse, not showing up at all. Or worst of all, showing up with a date I’ve paid off, which flawed as we all are, I considered.” Oswald sighed. 

“Showing up with you would just piss him off,” he grinned widely and then laughed, absolutely tickled at the idea.

“Uh-huh,” Jim was less enthusiastic.

“Look, I know you’re probably opposed to being seen with—,”

“I’m not opposed to being seen with a man,” Jim interrupted.

Oswald gasped. “I know that!” He pretended to be flabbergasted that Jim would have ever even thought he was unaware. “I was going to say the former and future king of the underworld.” Oswald flattered himself with a grin.

“But I think we all know you’ve been caught with your hands in all the cookie jars lately.”

“Not that deep,” Jim argued.

“How is this so deep? It’s one casual date,” Oswald emphasized by holding up his finger. “Plus…” He pursed his lips, pausing until Jim took interest.

“Plus what?” Jim took the bait.

“Lee Thompkins.”

“I’m not a stalker.”

“It’s not stalking! It’s just a fact that she’ll be there and you can see how she’s doing, maybe talk to her? Like a person?” Oswald offered mockingly. “No doubt she’ll have a green leech on her arm, but—,”

“And you think I’d ever be okay with the idea of her seeing me with someone like you, real or not?”

Oswald shrugged. “She’s certainly lowered her standards for personal gain. Maybe it’ll relight a fire when she sees that you weren’t afraid to do the same. Plus you can always tell her the truth afterward.”

“What makes you think I’m still in love with her?” Jim knew it was a mistake the moment it came out of his mouth.

That earned him a pause in which Oswald tried to deduce whether Jim could possibly be serious. He just laughed when he realized he was actually asking a question with so many obvious answers. He didn’t answer it.

“I’ll throw in some of my own dirt on some smaller sectors of the underworld that have been irking me lately, just in case you don’t get anything from the other patrons. But I guarantee you will.”

“All this to make sure Ed doesn’t think you don’t have a date?”

There was a twinge in Oswald’s heart that he wished he could stomp out immediately, but he gathered himself quickly.

“I confess, it’s also just to make him squirm when he finds out Jim Gordon is there technically by invitation and he has to honor it— if he has any honor. Especially when you consider he knows Lee still…”

Jim’s eyes lit up and it was too precious. In that appalling way.

“Well, nevermind. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Oswald said, turning to leave. “Just thought it might be an interesting opportunity for us both.”

“Deal,” Jim’s voice stopped him from turning the handle once his hand was on it.

“Are you sure?” Oswald asked as he turned back to face Jim. “We’ll have to act a little… well, you know. If Ed can make everyone else believe we’re faking it he’ll kick us out before you can get anything.”

“Believe it or not, I’m familiar with undercover work,” Jim assured. “Give me a call before you pick me up tomorrow night.”

“Little ol’ me? Picking up the captain of the GCPD? How modest of him.”

“I expect something nice,” Jim said, “like a limousine.” He grinned in a way that made Oswald regret everything he’d just gotten himself into.

“You didn’t think I’d be a cheap date, did you, Oswald?” Jim walked around the desk to stand in front of him, leaning against it just a few feet away from where Oswald seemed to be gathering himself.

Oswald smoothed his metaphorically ruffled feathers quickly and nodded sharply. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said smugly stepping forward and shaking Jim’s hand. Jim met him half-way like he’d expected it. Oswald then left the room, but not before flashing a look that made Jim feel like some sort of game had begun between them, and he was pretty sure he’d started it.

o-o-o-o

“Come again?”

“I said, I’m going undercover as Penguin’s date.”

Harvey leaned as far as he could across the desk to make sure he was hearing correctly when Jim spoke. “Come again?”

“Harvey.”

“Jim.” Harvey mocked his voice tone and sat back. “You know what, I don’t care. You do whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me when he tries to kiss you or something.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to take things that far.”

“Jim, please tell me you aren’t unaware that that little weasel has been looking at you with moon-eyes since you first fake-shot and dumped him in the river. Hell, maybe earlier.”

“That was a long time ago, things are different now. We’ve been through a lot,” Jim assured. “Just trust me, Harvey, I can get something out of this. It’s more than worth some embarrassment.”

“Well, you still got a good six hours before any underworld parties are going to start, so here,” Harvey threw a file down in front of him. “Check on this lead for me or I’ll tell the whole station you’re going on a date with Penguin.”

“Extortion, really?” Jim picked up the file and skimmed the contents. It was in the narrows— of course it was in the narrows. Harvey loved sending him there when he was captain, why should now have been any different.

Jim looked back up at Harvey as he closed the office door behind him, meeting his playful grin with feigned irritation.


	2. Chapter 2

Any time word of a homicide managed to worm its way out of the narrows and into the hands of the GCPD, if it didn’t end up in the trash it ended up in the hands of Jim Gordon. His supposed noble, justice-for-all nature aside, Jim simply had eyes and ears in the narrows, which often made solving cases that originated there easy.

Lee’s place was bustling. When he asked where she was, he was told she wasn’t in. He’d gotten that answer before and managed to find her, so he shoved past security like he always did and scouted about.

He saw green first, which was rare considering Lee was usually the one who stood among the people while Ed Nygma was off calculating something, somewhere. When he’d walked the perimeter with no sign of Lee, he took a deep breath, and approached the familiar obnoxious green suit.

“Hey Ed. Seen Lee?” He asked, all in one breath, and Ed spun on his heal at the address.

Ed opened his mouth.

“No riddles.” Jim interrupted.

For a moment Ed seemed like he was going to argue, but then he heaved a sigh. “If I had I wouldn’t tell you.”

That was the answer Jim had expected.

“Maybe you can help me, then.”

Ed’s face spread into a smile and he laughed. He kept laughing for far longer than was necessary until he frowned suddenly and spoke. “And why would I do that?”

“Because there’s been a triple homicide in the area, all the same M-O, and I’d say that’s bad for business. Especially with this new place you’re opening.”

Ed frowned. “Who told you about that? Lee?”

“I have my connections.” He’d let Ed think it was Lee. “Are you going to help me get rid of this guy, or not?”

Ed seemed to be considering this, Jim soon realized he was considering something else. “I don’t have money, but I pay my way. I can travel the world, but in the corner I stay. What am I?”

Jim rolled his eyes, sighed, and gave it some thought. “A stamp?”

Ed frowned hard, apparently even less enthusiastic about Jim answering his riddles than he used to be. “The three homicides you’re investigating? They happened on the block of the same club. Horrible place. They stamp your hand when you pay to get in and the ink hangs around for about a week. Check the victims, and if they all have the stamp, there’s your connection.”

“Who owns the club?” Jim asked, and before he was finished speaking his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out on reflex, looked down, and paused to answer it when he saw the ID.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” Ed sounded annoyed.

It was Oswald.

After a few moments of consideration and then a few more of preparation, Jim flipped the phone open and held it to his ear.

“Hey there.” He said, complete with flirtatious smile and voice tone. He made eye contact with and nodded to Ed, requesting his pardon just to make sure Ed was listening. Ed nodded back. “Missed hearing your voice. Is this about tonight?”

Ed seemed intrigued enough that Jim was sure he’d keep listening. 

Oswald took more than a moment to answer. “Wow, someone’s already getting into character.” He stumbled over some of the words and his laugh sounded almost impressed. “But, yes, it is. I just wanted to warn you that I got some more information and it’s a big place, with a stage and a dance floor, so it’ll probably be a big crowd. I’d bring a few notepads, maybe a tape-recorder if I were you,”

Jim held his face in a charmed smile for Ed’s benefit as he took in the information.

“But for god’s sake, don’t try to arrest anyone while you’re there. At least not until the end.”

“Of course. You know me, I’ll be careful.”

“No, I don’t know that you’ll be careful! I specifically know you for being the opposite of careful!”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Jim pouted playfully, and shifted his weight. He glanced inconspicuously at Ed who was watching with definite investment now.

“Ugh, forget it. I should have asked Bullock. Just make sure you wear something without any stains.” Then Oswald hung up.

“Right, see you soon,” Jim said to no one. “Of course, can’t wait,” he smiled again and swayed a little, and then closed the phone.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hot date tonight?” Ed mocked, and Jim shrugged.

“None of your business,” he said. “You were about to give me a name?”

o-o-o-o-o

As it turned out, all of the victims did in fact have the same stamp on their inner wrists, and it was traced back to the club Ed mentioned. Upon returning to the GCPD, Jim turned over the information he’d gathered to Harvey.

“Sure you don’t want this one? You’ve already put so much into it.”

“No thanks.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a date,” Harvey pointed the file at him accusingly, and grinned.

“Shut up, Harvey,” Jim snatched his jacket and started to pull it on. He paused with his arm half-way through the sleeve, and replayed some of Oswald’s words in his head. “Just make sure you wear something without any stains.” He looked down to find a coffee stain on his tie from when he’d spilled it that morning.

He sighed, and stopped putting the jacket on, draping it over his arm instead. He’d have to go home and change.

o-o-o

Jim visibly jumped when he turned around from locking the door to his apartment complex to find a black limousine parked in front of it, engine running.

He stopped, and looked over it warily. There was no sign of movement in the black-out windows but part of him had to worry about how many people were in there.

The back door opened, and Oswald Cobblepot stuck his head out from behind it. “What are you waiting for? We’re already late.” He slipped back inside and then disappeared into the dark interior and behind the door, but leaving it open. Jim hesitated for just another moment, before he stepped forward, and slid in after Oswald, closing the door behind him.

Once inside, he found it was just himself and Oswald.

“I can’t believe you actually got a limo.” Jim straightened his coat.

Oswald grinned as the car started to move. “Well, you know,” he shrugged. “Only the best for my good friend Jim Gordon.”

“We’re more than friends for tonight, Oswald. We should both get used to the idea,” Jim said, sounding as irritated as he normally did when they worked together.

Oswald’s next breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it as thoughts of ways to help them get used to it while alone together in the back of a limousine intruded. He started to cough into his hand, most of it fake, something he hid behind as he shoved the thought away.

“You okay?” Jim asked, idly. Oswald could only nod his head.

o-o-o

Pulling up in a limousine seemed incredibly wasted given the fact that there was no one outside when they arrived, and hardly any windows either. The building was certainly large but the location wasn’t far from Lee’s place in the narrows— go figure. It didn’t look very nice from the outside, but with the kind of money they’d stolen they certainly could have done something impressive with the interior.

Jim had suggested the limo as a joke and Oswald had obliged to keep the joke running, he assumed. But it would have been nice to use it to help establish them as a couple. Now Jim had to use something else.

“How do you wanna play this?” Jim asked, like they were two cops about to crash a mob meeting.

Oswald heaved a sigh. “Really? You’re going to act like it’s complicated?” He huffed. “Don’t insult me, Jim. Just put your arm around my shoulder as we walk in.” He tugged at his gloves as he spoke, trying to keep his face from changing colors.

“Works for me,” Jim gave him a sarcastic smile, and started toward the entrance. Oswald took a deep breath, and followed after him.

Stepping inside was easily like stepping straight out of the slums and into the rich side of town— if the rich side of town had Ed Nygma written all over it. The floors appeared newly carpeted with a crude, uninviting green and purple design, complete with a large question mark at the center of the entryway. The walls were fairly normal, thankfully, just a light green that matched the carpet. The decor was fairly modern gothic, but scarce, as most of the place was taken up by a large hard-floor ballroom, once again with a massive question-mark sprayed over it. Behind that was a stage with a curtain which Jim hoped to himself would not be used during their time here.

There was music, and apparently dancing. This seemed like a lot more than a house-warming party.

Jim and Oswald spotted the guest registry at roughly the same time. Jim slipped his arm around Oswald’s waist, feeling Oswald tense under his touch as he started toward it. Oswald almost hesitated for two long because he’d definitely said arm around his shoulder.

Still, he managed to gather himself before they arrived in front of the man behind the registry.

“Oswald Cobblepot.” Oswald announced himself, “and my plus one.” He gestured fondly toward Jim and Jim smiled charmingly at the man. The man stared at him over his glasses, frowning.

“You realize the plus-one is for romantic partners only.”

Oswald hummed, “I do,” he laughed, and nodded. “That is indeed, what we are.”

“Romantic partners,” Jim confirmed, nodding to the man. Oswald scoffed in disapproval at his lack of attempt to be a little believable and Jim heard it and tugged him closer by the waist so their hips touched.

The man didn’t seem convinced.

“Oswald!” A voice from behind them sounded, and they both turned. Ed was approaching enthusiastically with a smile until he saw Jim’s face, and abruptly stopped. His eyes dropped down to the arm around Oswald’s waist, then back up to see Jim’s forced smile.

“You can’t be serious,” he said immediately.

Oswald scoffed, and leaned into Jim. “Isn’t he the rudest?” He said, plenty loud enough for Ed to hear. “He doesn’t believe you could land me!”

Ed approached the two of them slowly. “At ease, Lawrence, I’ll handle this,” he relieved the man formerly working the registry, and stepped in front of it.

Ed stood in front of them for a moment, cracked an awkward smile and laugh, then frowned. “You have to leave,” he said to Jim. “Cute try, but I know you’re not together.”

“We, are, actually.” Jim argued, moving his arm off of Oswald because leaving it there felt like overkill. “Who do you think I was talking to on the phone earlier?”

Oswald looked at Jim with some confusion as he slotted the pieces of that one together.

Ed pursed his lips. “Prove it,” he said, simply.

Oswald snorted, “How are we supposed to do that? I’d pull a certificate but we’re not exactly married,” he shook his head. “…yet,” he added, sheepishly and Jim had to hold back from rolling his eyes.

“Haha, okay. No cops,” Ed said. “Please, you’ll make everyone here uncomfortable.”

“I don’t remember that in your conditions,” Oswald stepped up to the podium aggressively. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I see a few officers out there already, probably by formal invitation.”

“They’re mostly crooked, it’s different. And they’ll be the first ones to complain about that.” Ed pointed the back of his pen at Jim. Jim furrowed his brow, offended.

“Well, let’s wait and see if they do,” Oswald suggested.

Ed chuckled sarcastically, and leaned forward, getting unnecessarily close. 

“Oswald…” he started, and Oswald waited patiently, “…why are you doing this?”  
Oswald was irritated that he even had to ask that, and managed to hold back from warping his face into the most appalled expression one could muster, but he didn’t get time to answer.

“Jim? Jim Gordon?”

Barbara Kean.

“How did you get in here?” She approached, holding a martini with Tabitha Galavan close behind. She smacked Jim in the shoulder with the end of the lavender wrap strung over her shoulders and then took a sip of her drink.

Her eyes widened half-way through the sip. “Oh my god!” They moved between Oswald and Jim as she swallowed and before Jim could find a way to answer. “Are you here with little Ozzy?” Oswald tried to remain calm about being called little as she gasped through a huge grin, and got even closer to Jim, “Are you his date?”

Jim’s eyes shifted to Oswald, who seemed just as lost for words as he did.

“That’s so great I always knew you two would be great together from the moment I saw you!”

Jim blinked. “You did?” “You did?” Oswald muttered at almost the same time.

“Of course, you’re a perfect match!” She gestured vaguely between them.

“I had it pegged too,” Tabitha leaned in, smiling deviously. It became clear to Oswald and Jim at the same time that both of them were just trying to help thwart Ed.

“Well, you were right!” Oswald grinned, stepping up beside Jim, who put his arm around his shoulder and smiled at the two of them. Jim nodded subtly in thanks.

“Aw, that’s so great! See you inside!” Barbara raised her glass and spun, linking her free arm with Tabby’s and leading her back to the crowd.

They both turned to Ed after they left.

“What, you think that changes something?” Ed snorted.

“We’re a couple, Ed.” Jim said, seriously. “We’ve been together for almost two weeks now. Oswald didn’t want to come to this alone, and I didn’t want him going with anyone else. Are you going to honor the terms on your invitations or not?” 

Ed frowned hard at him, and picked up the pencil next to the registry, and begrudgingly made a huge, bold checkmark next to Oswald’s name.

“Fine,” he said, and scribbled Jim’s name next to it, “but the minute I catch you pulling anything funny, I’ll throw you both out.”

“Just here to dance,” Jim assured.

A smirk crossed over Ed’s face. He looked down again and smugly wrote a question mark at the end of Jim’s name.

“I look forward to see you dance, then. Together,” he nodded, clearly feeling something akin to victory.

“Nice to see you, Oswald,” he muttered, and then left.

Jim was already shoving his hands sheepishly into his jacket pockets and frowning at the ground.

“Nice going, Jim,” Oswald spat. “Now we have to dance,” he scoffed at the other guests filling up the dance floor. “I hate the waltz.”

Jim sighed, and patted his shoulder, “come on, let’s go get a drink for now.” He himself was going to have to be at least a little drunk to continue pulling this off.


	3. Chapter 3

Barbara showed up again, only a few minutes after they’d settled into the atmosphere, still somewhat clinging to the familiarity of each other by a table full of various foods.

“So,” she said, “why are you really here?” She sipped her drink under playfully suspicious eyes.

Jim sighed shifted his weight, and jerked his head toward Oswald. “That’s why, we were telling the tru—,”

“Oh, please, Jim, she’s not going to run and tell Ed. You can tell her the truth.” Oswald said, and then took a gulp of a glass of wine. He didn’t want anything too strong because he didn’t think he’d be able to resist consuming it in large amounts.

Barbara smiled in thanks at Oswald, then turned back to Jim in askance.

“…there’ve been a number of unexplained disappearances lately. All random, no leads. I thought this might be the perfect place to find something on them.”

Barbara shrugged. “Fair enough,” she said, “Plenty of crooked cops here anyway, and half the underworld already thinks you were on Penguin’s payroll. They’ll believe you’re crooked too,” she assured.

“Of course he is. Like I’d ever date anyone who’s straight,” Oswald joked, and a grin stretched over Barbara’s face in amusement as Jim rolled his eyes.

“Me neither,” She winked at Jim, and waved with the end of her wrap as she left them again.

o-o-o-o

Oswald was beginning to wish he hadn’t come. Sure, Jim was off doing his dirty work, but Oswald wasn’t so much in the mood, and everyone present seemed to just genuinely be having fun. Drinking, dancing— he couldn’t believe Ed knew how to throw a party like this. Yet, despite having kept one eye on the man for most of the half-hour they’d been there, he hadn’t seen Lee with him once.

Finally, his curiosity overwhelmed him, and he approached Ed as he was silently looking on next to a set of large double doors.

“So, Ed,” he said, leaning on his cane next to him, “where’s your date?”

Ed’s eyes shifted to him. “Lee?” He scoffed.

Oswald pursed his lips at the unenthusiastic reaction to the subject.

“She wouldn’t come,” he sounded bitter.

Oswald cackled. “Um, of course she wouldn’t,” he said, snorting, “you think she has any interest in befriending or being known by the rest of gotham’s criminal underworld?”

“Of course not,” Ed spat back. “I didn’t think she would. But more than that she wants to stay in the narrows, make sure she’s stays one of them and doesn’t have it this much better than they do.” He sounded incredibly frustrated and in disagreement with the facts, fidgeting with his cufflinks as he spoke.

Oswald heaved a sigh. “Why do you and I always fall for the good ones?”

Ed sputtered a laugh, “you fell for me.”

Oswald waved him off, “I got over it fast,” his eyes scanned the room for his “date”, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable and looking for a scape-goat.

“I’m surprised you got Jim to agree to this,” Ed said.

Oswald frowned at him, “To be my actual boyfriend?”

Ed immediately laughed, and Oswald turned to him fully, “That unbelievable to you, is it?” He challenged. Ed turned to face him as well, standing up straight and telling himself Oswald had asked for it.

o-o-o

Jim was supposed to be listening in to conversations, snooping around in off-limits areas, at very least searching about for Lee. He knew this, and it didn’t change the fact that once he’d passed the wine table and spotted Oswald across the room, caught in a one-on-one conversation with Ed Nygma, his eyes got stuck.

He picked up a glass of white wine, and brought it to his face, not sipping it but behaving as if he were about to for anyone who happened to glance at him.

Oswald looked okay, and Jim was sure he could handle himself with whatever Ed was confronting him with. Which was, more than likely, the accusation that their relationship was fake and Oswald had just brought Jim here to spy on the underworld. He watched warily, waiting for the conversation to end to make sure Oswald was able to smooth it over.

Minutes passed, Jim watched the smug smile slowly disappear from Oswald’s face as Ed spoke through a hard frown. He watched Oswald’s gaze falter, and shift to the floor, and something twinged in his own heart. Ed stepped closer to him as Oswald seemed to be struggling to find something to say to whatever Ed had just hit him with.

Something flared up inside him as memories resurfaced. Of waking up to the two of them singing a duet in Ed’s apartment, of the news coverage depicting their obvious closeness when Oswald was running for mayor. Jim brought the glass to his lips, tilted it back, downed a heavy portion of it, then set it down and started to cross the room.

“Maybe I can’t prove that it’s not real, but I know you brought him here to get under my skin and crash my party. Just remember that I know how you felt about him, I know this is real for you. And I know he would never—,” Ed cut himself off when he realized Jim was cutting through the dance floor and walking toward them.

Jim didn’t even look at him, didn’t acknowledge he was there. Instead he stopped beside Oswald, or more against him, and raised a full glass of white wine against his chest, and brought his lips close to the side of his face.

Oswald was stunned, eyes wide, mouth open, as Jim whispered against his ear, lips brushing against the lobe and making it hard for Oswald to register what he was saying.

“Are you thirsty?” was the long and short of it, and it was followed by Jim kissing his neck just below his ear. Oswald couldn’t help himself from letting his eyes roll back in his head as he fumbled deliriously to accept the glass from Jim, two more kisses being placed along his hairline.

Ed cleared his throat awkwardly, and they both looked at him in question, Jim through half-hooded eyes with his face half-buried in Oswald’s hair.

“If… you’ll excuse me,” Ed retreated, and Jim loosened his hold on Oswald once his back was turned, but didn’t release him.

Oswald turned his head to the side, looking up at Jim in confusion and loss for words as Jim smirked more than just a little. He looked damn proud of himself.

“What the hell was that?” Oswald was glad Jim had the nerve to look so smug because it pulled him out of his stun. Jim frowned— no, he pouted, and let his arms fall to his sides. Oswald missed them wrapped around him immediately.

“You looked like you needed rescuing.” Jim shrugged.

Oswald sighed, shook the rest of the stupification off of him, and looked away from Jim as he let the ghost of the feeling of Jim’s lips against his ear turn his cheeks red.

“Well, if nothing else, I don’t think Ed will bother approaching me anymore,” he said, straightening his tie although it wasn’t crooked. “Now’s your chance to snoop.”

“What are you going to do?”

Oswald furrowed his brow. “Drink, mingle, interrogate people who don’t know I’m interrogating them.” He snuffed. “You’re not the only one here for espionage,” Oswald wasn’t positive he was going to do any of those things except the first one, but he needed Jim to believe he would.

“Right,” Jim nodded. “Have you seen Lee yet?”

Oswald sighed, “I’m sorry, she’s not here,” he said. “Apparently she’s too good for this place,” he brought the wine Jim have given him to his lips.

Jim forced a pained smile, “that’s true.” He said, and Oswald felt his heart sink into his gut. “But that’s fine, I have a case with no leads, and she’d only distract me.”

Oswald nodded in understanding, and Jim returned it before he left.

o-o-o-o

Oswald had been sitting for an hour and a half and he’d known for at least an hour of it that this was the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his entire life. He hadn’t seen Jim so much as walk by in forty-five minutes. Ed was appearing to be managing to mingle properly, which was just frustrating to watch. Barbara had stopped by a few times to tease him and for some reason imply things about what Jim was like in bed, which was the last thing Oswald wanted to hear about considering this was fake and she knew it. She just relished the opportunity to watch both him and Ed squirm at the same time.

“I bet he’s sad Lee’s not here,” she’d pouted during one of her visits, a mouth full of olive. “I am too. Don’t you think she’s just kinda…” Barbara trailed off but threw her head back and sighed, dreamily.

Oswald frowned, hard. “No, I don’t think anything like that,” he assured. Barbara had then rolled her eyes, and taken off again.

o-o-o-o

Another half-hour later, and Oswald was ready to leave. He kept thinking that, but he stayed seated, staring off into the distance as he watched people dance. Half of them were getting the steps wrong, and the other half were just showing off. Over time they all became a blur of legs and feet amidst the music, and he felt himself very slowly drifting into something akin to sleep.

“Oswald?” Jim’s voice was soft next to him.

Oswald sat up immediately, straightening himself up. “Did you… did you get anything?”

Jim frowned crookedly, and leaned against the wall next to the chair he was in. “No, actually,” he sighed. “No one’s talking, not even the one I dragged off to the bathroom and pinned behind the stall door.”

Oswald jerked his head to look at him, wide eyed. “Jim!” He spat angrily, under his breath.

Jim shrugged. “Don’t worry, he’s unconscious, hidden, and won’t wake up until well after this thing’s over.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time? Hiding bodies?” Oswald scoffed, “You know Jim, I hand you a golden opportunity and here you are, squandering it. God knows tomorrow you’ll find some way to blame me for it not working out,” he grumbled.

Jim looked at him, blinking slowly as he took the words more to heart than Oswald had meant them.

“I appreciate you coming to me with the offer, Oswald.” Jim said, finally. “Even if nothing real comes of it, it was a good thought.”

Oswald huffed, “I had my own reasons, Jim,” he said, “at least my plan to annoy Ed succeeded.” He raised his glass to that, and went to drink from it but Jim caught his hand by the wrist. Oswald almost protested, but then Jim’s thumb stroked over his wrist bone and around to the front. The small touch sent electricity through Oswald that destroyed his ability to function.

“He expects us to dance,” Jim said.

Oswald looked up at him with uncertainty and a twinkle in his eye.

“Probably best if I lie low at least for a little while after what happened in the bathroom,” Jim said. “Perfect time to get that out of the way.” He reached out his other hand and took the glass from Oswald’s. Then he turned over his own wrist and brought Oswald’s hand to his lips, and gently kissed the back his fingers.

Oswald sat there gaping.

Jim jerked his head to the side, and Oswald looked to find Ed not far away, eyes on them.

“Dance with me?” Jim asked, formally, and Oswald could have died.

He managed to nod frantically, and allowed Jim to pull him up from the chair until he was standing.

He tried to control his breathing as Jim lead him to a small open space at the far end of the floor. At least he knew the song. He wondered if Jim knew the song. He wondered if Jim knew how to dance at all. He wondered if Jim would knew how to dance with a man who couldn’t move his feet in the same way most men did.

When Jim stopped, and turned to face him, he panicked inside. “Jim, I don’t—,”

“Sh, he’s looking,” Jim tilted his head and moved his eyes. Oswald subtly turned his head to see Ed watching them from across the floor, expression unreadable.

“Do you know how to dance like that?” Jim nodded toward another couple, placing his hands on Oswald’s waist and nudging him closer.

“Of course I know how to slow-dance,” Oswald muttered gruffly, grabbing one of Jim’s hands off his waist and took it in his own, lacing their fingers together. Jim smirked, and slid his hand up Oswald’s torso until it was just under his arm instead as Oswald put his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“I’ll lead,” Jim said.

“Yes you will,” Oswald nodded, falling in reluctantly but flawlessly as Jim, right then and there, start to move his feet.

“This is the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Oswald muttered, and Jim grinned.

“I can tell. That’s why it’s fun for me.”

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Oswald said, just stating the facts. Jim was missing the feel of the song entirely, not keeping up like he should have been, like he was dancing to no music at all.

“Deepest apologies for not meeting your standards, Mr. Cobblepot.” Jim said, voiced laced with sarcasm as he changed his pace in response. Oswald frowned hard at him, but found it easy to keep up despite his leg. The pain was mild and manageable tonight, and that made this easier. Too easy, because in moments he’d stopped thinking about his feet and that allowed him to think about Jim’s hand on his side and how Jim seemed to pull him closer every time they turned.

“Where did you learn this?” Jim asked.

“You don’t want to know, really.” He said. Jim tilted his head.

“Did your mother teach you?” He asked, softly. Sensitively. Oswald stopped moving, tugging Jim to stop as well. He dropped Jim’s hand and wiped his palms on his pants.

“Oswald…” Jim said, reaching out carefully to touch Oswald’s wrist with the tips of his fingers. Oswald didn’t pull away, so he slowly wrapped his fingers around his wrist, then his other one, and pulled Oswald’s hands up to his shoulders.  
Oswald let him do it, sighing as Jim then put his hands on Oswald’s waist, and started to step, spin, and sway.

“This isn’t very formal,” Oswald grumbled, “no one else is dancing like this.”

“It’s more romantic,” Jim insisted, leaning forward to almost whisper into his ear. Oswald didn’t argue. He might have, but all of his words got stuck in his throat at Jim’s proximity.

“Tell me when you want to stop,” Jim’s voice was soft, and Oswald swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look at him, keeping his head bowed.

Oswald’s hair was tall— he always styled it so tall, and Oswald was short but with his head bowed the top of his hair was temptingly close. Jim couldn’t look at him without thinking about how easy it would be to bury his nose in it, breath him in. How he could pass it off as part of the acting, like he had every other time he’d crossed the line tonight.

He knew he needed to stop. Oswald had essentially done him a favor of his own volition by getting him here, and Jim wanted to feel only gratitude and respect for him at that moment. Oswald deserved that— deserved better than the rest of what Jim was feeling as Oswald’s body slowly loosened under his hands. He finally let his elbows touch Jim’s chest, and Jim couldn’t stop himself from tugging him just a little closer.

He dipped his head so his nose and lips touched the tips of Oswald’s hair, closed his eyes, and just breathed.

Oswald’s heart started to pound just as the music grew louder, more intense. Whitney Houston’s voice and words tethered him, and he willed himself not to panic, daringly moving his body even closer than Jim had pulled it.

When he did, Jim’s hands squeezed his waist, his head lowered further so his cheek was against Oswald’s ear, his breath on Oswald’s neck. Oswald closed his eyes and focused on making sure he kept breathing.

Jim kept his eyes open, fixed on the array of small green and purple lights on the wall behind them. He knew the song was almost over, and he wasn’t ready to let go.

But when it ended, he did. He stopped first, they both just stopped, hands and faces staying where they were. Oswald felt the corner of Jim’s lips brush his cheek as he pulled back, and none of it was fair. Jim’s hands fell from his waist. Oswald removed his just in time to hide the initial hesitation. He looked up, expecting to say something, but stopped when he found Jim’s eyes so close, just looking down at him.

Oswald’s heart pounded against the front of his chest and he had to open his mouth to breath. His mouth and lips had gone dry, and he wet them with his tongue, a movement to which Jim’s response was to take a step closer, eyes darkening as he leaned in. Oswald leaned away, and he immediately hated himself for it as he searched Jim’s eyes for an explanation.

Jim’s heart had dropped into his stomach and he backed off, looking straight down at his feet. “Sorry,” he said, but it came out as more of a forced growl. “Got caught up in the moment.”

Oswald nodded with understanding. “Music is powerful,” he assured, kicking himself immediately for how stupid that sounded.

“I’m going to get some air.” Jim said quickly, and then he was gone, leaving Oswald alone in a dark corner of the dance floor.

He looked down at his feet, then heaved a sigh, and looked around as the world continued spinning. Across the dance floor and in front of the stage, Edward Nygma was still looking straight at him. He made no move to look away when Oswald met his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Oswald started over.

Ed stood up straight when he realized he was being approached.

“Lovely party!” Oswald Cobblepot slid into character as if the same man in front of him hadn’t almost reduced him to a wreck with only words by the punch bowl twenty minutes earlier. “You know, I never realized until tonight how much I like cubes of cheese?”

Ed stared at him for just a few moments before a smile quirked at the edge of his lips, and he looked down.

“You’re supposed to use a toothpick and there’s ham and…” He trailed off. “Oh, nevermind,” he sighed. He wasn’t feeling small talk about party food.

“Where’s your date?” He asked instead.

“Needed some air,” Oswald said. “Things were getting a little heated on that big green dance floor of yours,” He grinned suggestively, and then laughed. “I have to say, you’ve really outdone yourself with this place—,”

“Oswald,” Ed interrupted, destroying Oswald’s feigned amusement and forcing his face to straighten. Ed pushed himself off the stage, raising his hand to adjust his stupid hat. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out at first. Oswald stared, the suspense ripping him to shreds.

Ed opened his mouth again, and Oswald’s eyes widened, but then he shut it again, and sighed instead. “You should go after him,” Ed said, finally, and Oswald knew that whatever he was going to say before, that wasn’t it.

Now it was Oswald’s turn to fail to get any words out, and he pursed his lips, and then nodded, and did as Ed suggested.

o-o-o

Oswald found Jim on a curb just outside the side-entrance, seated with his feet in the road. Rolling his eyes, Oswald approached.

“How much have you had to drink?” Oswald asked. Jim looked back at him, brow furrowed.

“What?” Jim didn’t seem to understand the simple question.

“You only have so much time to find something worthwhile, and here you are, moping on the side of the street.” Oswald walked over to him, and stopped beside him. “I figure you must be drunk,” he shrugged.

“No.” Jim said. “Just tired.”

“Ah-ha!” Oswald exclaimed as he strained to take a seat next to Jim. “You don’t feel like working,” he accused.

Jim frowned at him. “What? No,” he’d never once felt such an emotion. Oswald snorted, and shook his head and started to straighten his cuffs, one after the other.

“What about you, no more espionage?” Jim asked.

Oswald scoffed. “I’ve gathered more than my fair share of information tonight, Jim,” he lied, then adjusted his collar and tie.

Jim nodded, shrugging. Silence fell between them, and Oswald leaned back on his hands, sighing up at the night sky.

“What happened with you and the man at the bar?” Oswald asked, maybe just to kill the silence, maybe just so Jim would talk to him.

“What?” Jim looked at him.

“I saw you, last week, in Ashton’s with a man.” 

Jim’s eyes widened, then shifted away as some things fell into place in his mind. 

“You left with him, and now you’re here with me and not being very subtle about your acting. Unless he’s going to come storming through that door to try and tear me to pieces…”

“…or maybe you told him this was all fake, and he was fine with it—,”

“It didn’t work out.” Jim interrupted.

Oswald’s eyes moved to his face, nothing but curiosity in them.

“I went home with him, things were heating up…” he trailed off. “Well, I told him it had been a while since I was with a man. Which lead to me telling him I’d more often been with women. He… wasn’t into that. So,” Jim shrugged.

Oswald took a few moments to take that in, as well as Jim’s apparent discomfort. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”

Jim laughed and shook his head, then frowned suddenly. 

“You’re joking, right?” He turned to Oswald.

Oswald snorted. “Yes, Jim. I’m joking.”

Jim’s smile returned and he shook his head, relaxing again.

“We should really get back to the party.” Oswald said, picking up his cane and using it to help himself to his feet. “If we’re missing for too long, well, that’s when the rumors will start.” Jim stood abruptly as if to stop him, but Oswald was already walking away, toward the entrance.

Jim opened his mouth to protest, but Oswald was right, so he said nothing, and reluctantly followed.

Once he saw Oswald closing in on the door he had an urge to pick up his pace. He jogged over, and reached the door before Oswald, who stopped abruptly with surprise. Jim stepped in front of him, and opened the door, then stepped aside and held it for him.

Oswald stared at the open door in front of him, mouth open but no words coming out. He managed to mutter a thank you, shrugged it off, and walked through the door with Jim close behind him.

o-o-o-o

Upon walking back inside, the two of them were met by what appeared to be security in the form of two unfortunately dressed women, Ed, and a man with a huge red welt on the front of his head just behind them. 

Jim's eyes widened as the man waved at him, and Oswald turned aggressively, accusingly to face Jim. 

"You both need to leave," Ed said, simply. 

"Jim!" Oswald barked, "That was not the plan! I--" 

"What was the plan, Oswald?" Ed stepped forward. "What were the two of you looking for?" 

Jim opened his mouth, and Ed held up his hand. "Nevermind," he said. "I don't care. There's the door. Leave now and I won't tell everyone you helped a cop snoop around in their business just so you could say you had a date."

Oswald blood started to boil, but it was impossible for him to argue that hadn’t been the reason without revealing the truth.

"He does have a date," Jim interrupted. "I did that on my own. He told me not to but I couldn't help myself." 

Ed's mouth curved into a grin and he laughed. "You know, knowing you I almost believe that." 

"You don't know me, Ed." 

"I do, a little, actually,” Ed quipped. "Doesn't matter, if you're not gone in ten minutes, I may not so much want to kill you courtesy of Ms. Thompkins, but I'll have you physically thrown out." 

"Fine, we'll leave." Oswald spat. There was a pause of silence among the six of them, before Ed nodded to the two women behind him, and the dispersed, the wounded disheveled man shaking his head and muttering something about it being bullshit. 

Ed looked down at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets, and started toward Jim. Jim tensed as he approached, and Ed stopped in front of him. 

"Jim," he started, glancing back at Oswald to read his closeness and earshot. He then leaned back to Jim and whispered quickly, "don't play with him, hm?" He suggested. 

"I'd never do that." Jim assured, loudly and aggressively. 

Ed pursed his lips, and shrugged. "Long as you're sure,” he didn't seem convinced, and Jim’s certainty may have faltered, eyes shifting away. 

Oswald watched intently, desperately wanting to know the first thing Ed had said. 

"Why do you care, anyway?" Jim asked.

Ed opened his mouth to say something, then just looked down, and only a stuttered laugh came out. "I don't, of course." He said, then gave Jim an unnecessarily hard friendly slap on the shoulder. "Take care, hope I never have to see you again." 

"Likewise," Jim scoffed as Ed turned away. He inhaled deeply, and nodded toward Oswald, whose gaze was filled with curiosity.

"Oswald." Ed said quickly. "I think it goes without saying that neither of you are welcome here without explicit invitation in the future." 

Oswald huffed. "Well that seems only fair," he ground out.

"Good evening," Ed tipped his hat and Oswald rolled his eyes hard, making a face at him as he passed by to leave. Jim smiled at the ground at Oswald’s pettiness and stepped up beside him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Oswald heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry you didn’t find anything. I’m sorry Lee isn’t here,” he said in one breath, just to get it out. “Seems like this whole thing was just a waste of your time.”

“Not so much,” Jim shrugged, “it was nice to watch Ed squirm.”

Oswald’s face broke out in a smile as he looked down, remembering Jim had his own vendettas against Edward Nygma.

Silence fell between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Oswald rotated his thumb over the top of his cane as he looked around the room once more, judging all of it as it would likely be a while before he was allowed back in. Eventually, he would be.

“Oswald,” Jim said. Oswald ‘hmmed’ but didn’t look at him as he brought the glass to his lips and sipped.

“Take me home,” Jim requested, and Oswald’s eyes moved to him, and he set the drink down. He looked at Jim’s eyes, maybe just to savor one last moment before they left and all of this—whatever it was, was over. His lips twitched into a forced, almost sad smile, and he nodded.

“Let’s go,” he pushed off from the table, and made his way to the door, pulling out his phone to call his driver. Jim hesitated, watching him start off for a few moments, before following after him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Oswald got into the back of the sedan he took the middle seat as he always did. It was a habit, a reflex. In the back of a car in gotham, the center seat was the safest place to be. But not this time.

Jim slid in after him, heaving a tired sigh, sitting in the seat next to him, far too close to him. It was too late to move over a seat without it seeming odd now, especially as Jim didn’t seem concerned. So, Oswald forced himself to relax, even as Jim’s thigh was barely an inch or so from touching his.

Oswald wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what more there was to say. He’d already apologized for the way the mission had been a total failure in every regard. Jim didn’t appear too upset about it, either. He just looked tired.

Oswald made the decision to allow him a silent ride home before the end.

That was easier said than done, as he’d begun to feel antsy less than a minute after the car started to move. Jim was just quietly staring out the window, but his hand was next to his leg, pinky nearly touching Oswald’s thigh which Oswald’s hand was resting on. He didn’t feel like he could move any part of himself, if he did it would break the peace between them, which at the moment felt like the only thing that was going to see them both home without any…

…any what?

Finally, Oswald couldn’t help himself. He heaved a sigh, and moved his hands both to his cane, which the head of which was on the floor between his feet. He opened his thighs just barely when he did, though, and his knee bumped Jim’s hardly at all. But it was enough to make Jim turn his head back from the window.

Oswald opened his mouth, looking at their knees after he’d jerked his away like he was going to apologize before he realized how stupid and unnecessary that would have been. He stayed frozen halfway to words with his mouth hanging open instead.

Then Jim spread his own thighs so his leg was flush with Oswald’s, and Oswald’s entire body tensed, and he closed his eyes because there was nothing else he could do to hide. Jim Gordon was sitting next to him in the back of his car well-after midnight spreading his legs and he just had to sit still about it?

Jim left things like that for a few moments, and then his hand was on Oswald’s knee, and he was leaning over, hot breath spilling over Oswald’s neck.

“Uh, Jim…,” Oswald forced an awkward laugh because it was all he could muster. “Party’s over,” he said lamely. Jim kissed his ear.

“Can we just do this?” Jim asked against, voice low, breathing hard, body shifting closer.

Oswald closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head and he allowed himself a moment as Jim’s hand squeezed, his breath seemed to turn into impatient growls, rubbing his nose against Oswald’s ear lobe until finally Oswald turned his head and kissed him on his impatient mouth.

It didn’t occur to Jim until that moment that for all the ways he’d pushed their charade too far that night, he hadn’t yet kissed Oswald’s lips, held his face in his hands, felt him shake as he sucked in a breath when Jim opened his mouth to drag his tongue along the edge of Oswald’s lips. Oswald felt himself melting into the leather seat and all at once Jim’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and his hand slid up the inside of his thigh.

Movement slowed and time stopped when Jim cupped the front of his pants hard, and squeezed, tongue twirling itself under Oswald’s at the same time. He rubbed his palm down roughly, and Oswald had to rip his mouth away to breath.

“Jim,” He whined, reaching sideways for something, anything to hold onto. On his left he found nothing but the leather seat, but on his right his fingers wrapped around Jim’s tie, and pulled hard on it as Jim started to grope him through his pants.

“Oh god,” it took everything he had just to breath as Jim plastered himself against Oswald’s right side, nose and mouth buried in his neck, hand now pulling to get into his pants. Oswald lifted his hips for him, and cried out when Jim tugged them down enough to get his hand inside, his palm around, fingers moving, thumb swirling and pressing.

Oswald had his head thrown back, hand clinging tightly to Jim’s tie for his life as he moaned and his voice broke amidst cries. He was loud, of course he was loud, and Jim loved it. He pressed his mouth to Oswald’s obscenely exposed neck and spoke against it.

“Come on,” he coaxed, pressing his hips against the side of Oswald’s thigh, “come for me. I want you to scream so loud the driver stops the car.”

“Ugh,” Oswald protested between heaving breaths, forcing his eyes open and turning his head over to look at Jim’s face. Jim seemed to hesitate at the sight of his eyes, maybe his hair in them, maybe the way his throes had mussed it or the way his lips were wet and kiss-swollen.

“Jim,” Oswald begged, and Jim moved his hand faster. “Jim, please, please I want you to fuck me.” He reached with his left hand and caught Jim’s sleeve, pulling on it. “God, please.”

Jim was the one losing control under the thrall of those words, angling his hips and shoving hard against Oswald so he could feel his cock against his thigh as he worked him in his hand. They couldn’t do that here but he needed Oswald to know he wanted it too. He wanted it too.

“Jim, Jim! I’m-- you, oh-- god,”

Oswald’s voice, to Jim’s dismay, was lost completely when Jim felt hot wet liquid spill over his hand. It was caught in his throat as Oswald’s hips spasmed under his touch, his eyes stuck on the felt ceiling above them, pushing himself up against Jim’s slowing hand as he wanted, needed to until it was over. A moan seeped out toward the end, and Jim kissed his neck to feel it on his lips.

When it was he stayed still. Slouched, dazed as the hand was removed from his pants and he remembered how expensive yet now thoroughly soiled they were. He spent all of one second caring about that before he rolled his head over to find Jim, just patiently looking at him.

“We’re almost to my place,” Jim said. Oswald’s eyes moved down, subtly to between Jim’s legs where there was still a very clear tent pitched. Oswald shut his eyes and relaxed his body again.

“I can’t believe you did that to me,” Oswald sucked in a sharp breath. Jim laughed gently.

“What can I say, I got stuck in character,” Jim said, lamely. Oswald hated him and every dumb word that came out of his mouth, so much that he leaned forward swiftly and slanted his lips against Jim’s.

Jim pressed back, softer, and Oswald sighed against him as he pulled back. He knew he had to fix his pants, but something about that made the whole thing feel too real and too over at the same time.

“This doesn’t have to be exclusive,” Jim said, slowly, “but it doesn’t have to be the last time, either.”

Oswald looked at him critically. “What you mean is you don’t want it to be exclusive, because of Lee.”

Jim looked down at his own hands as he rubbed them together nervously. “That’s not the only reason,” he muttered. “Let’s face it, neither of us is ready to be in this to get married and have kids.”

Oswald smirked, nodding with confession.

“Also there’s Ed,” Jim offered, and Oswald groaned in what sounded like disgust and rolled his eyes as far back as they could go.

“Okay, nevermind Ed.” Jim smiled in amusement, and Oswald laughed tiredly along. “You can do better anyway,” there was a seriousness to Jim’s voice that Oswald didn’t expect, and he immediately frowned, every part of him feeling heavy. He didn’t say anything back.

A few moments of silenced passed before Oswald realized they were turning down the street Jim’s apartment was on. “Well,” he sat up completely, and finally got to re-clasping his pants, “sorry about your dick, but I am thoroughly exhausted.”

“No apology needed,” Jim smiled, nodding. “Next time.”

“How forward of you.” The car came to a stop outside Jim’s apartment building.

“Let’s face it, it’s not like you were ever going to make a real move.” Jim teased, and Oswald felt his face get hot, but break out in a smile at the same time.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” Oswald assured.

“I don’t think I will,” Jim countered without missing a beat.

Oswald looked him in the eyes, and sighed, closing them for a moment and then meeting his again. Jim waited patiently, searching Oswald’s face for hints as to what he was going to say.

“I’m so glad that you’re my friend, Jim Gordon,” He said, sincerely. Jim sucked in a breath, smile fleeing his face just before he leaned in again, and kissed Oswald, bringing a hand to the side of his face and stroking his thumb along his jaw.

He pulled back, “good night, Oswald,” he said, and then he was gone. Out of the car with the sound of a closing door and Oswald was left in a pool of something bittersweet, and ultimately, as usual, alone.

He jumped at the sound of knocking on the window. Jim was on the outside looking in— the blackout windows made it hard to tell, but it was obviously him, complete with a dumb smile.

Oswald looked down in the seat next to him to see Jim’s phone, which must’ve fallen out of his pocket. He picked it up in one hand, and leaned over to roll down the window with the other.

“You’re a mess,” Oswald handed it to him by the antennae, and Jim grinned as he took it.

“Hey Oswald?” Jim said before Oswald could finish rolling the window back up. “Glad you’re my friend, too,” he said, and then turned around to head inside. Oswald watched him go. Kept watching until he was inside and out of sight. 

He was still for a moment before he weakly finished rolling up the window, heaved a sigh, and sat back.

The divider of the front seat and back rolled open a crack. “You sure you want to leave, boss?” He asked.

“Just drive.” Oswald replied, thoughts having already drifted elsewhere as a little smile crossed over his face. “Take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. I was listening to Is There Somewhere by Halsey pretty much exclusively while writng this. It really isn't anything like the song but I love that song for these little shits.


End file.
